


(the neighbors might think) but, baby, it's bad out there

by bloodredcherries



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 03:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17093126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodredcherries/pseuds/bloodredcherries
Summary: “Whatever do you mean?” She asked, her eyes filled with innocence. “Can’t I come by and visit with an old friend, the Wyrm, on Christmas?”





	(the neighbors might think) but, baby, it's bad out there

Christmas Day had been declared an absolute disaster by Alice Cooper after the tenth  _ pointless _ game of cards that Harold had insisted on had been predictably won by him, her second bottle of wine had been mysteriously emptied, and Polly still hadn’t managed to deign to darken the Cooper doorstep. For the millionth time, Alice had found herself wondering why exactly she had bothered to even  _ take _ Harold back into her home and her master suite, when there had been little reward for her patience and sacrifices, just a gigantic headache and one child long gone and nowhere to be found, and the other child content on bulldozing everything that she had worked so hard to achieve for some reason that Alice couldn’t bother to figure out, perhaps teenage rebellion? 

 

She just knew that she couldn’t take it any longer. She wanted to punch Harold in his smug ass face the more he just  _ ignored _ the fact that they had completely failed in their marriage and as parents, while Elizabeth pretended that there was nothing wrong with their family unit and that her parents’ marriage was crumbling around them. The lights on the Christmas tree mocked Alice with their twinkling, as did the angel that adorned the top of the evergreen, as Alice knew that she was no angel. 

 

“I’m going out,” she announced to the room, not bothering to wait for a response of protest that she knew would come from Elizabeth (poor Elizabeth), her resolve to not spend another minute in the house from hell overcoming her desire to have a perfect family Christmas. “Don’t wait up.”

 

The houses on Elm Street mocked her, their dazzling Christmas displays elected to call out all of her failures at once, and she got behind the wheel of her station wagon, her teeth gritted as she drove out of the driveway and down the street, hoping (for once) to not be the center of attention. Where Alice was going? That, she did not know.

 

It was Christmas Day, after all, and this  _ was _ Riverdale, and Alice knew perfectly well that there were no (or very few) legitimate businesses open. The small town seemed even more (cloyingly) deceptively peaceful, and she seethed, allowing herself to drive along a path that she had long sworn not to tread. Damn FP to hell for rejoining the Serpents, Alice thought to herself, as she led her way to the Wyrm on autopilot, barely even acknowledging the stares she’d received when she’d entered the small convenience store that she’d once stolen cigarettes and candy (what a  _ fucking _ cliche she’d been) from as a teenager and purchased a package of smokes. Whatever. She was so  _ damn _ tired.

 

Tired of Christmas.

 

Tired of Hal. 

 

Tired of FP’s idiot choices blowing up in his face.

 

Tired of Polly acting like a selfish damn moron when she could just recognize the sacrifices Alice had made for her and just come home.

 

Deep down, she was even tired of hiding part of who she was. Not that Alice was ever going to admit that. 

 

The Wyrm, her cliche of a destination, was open, an oasis in the storm of life for the residents of the Southside Community, even on such days as Christmas Day, a fact that she was grateful for. It wasn’t as if she thought that the Wyrm had closed, but, it was her luck lately to have absolutely nothing go right. She cut the engine as she coasted into the parking lot, not caring that the spot she’d pulled into made her presence obvious to all. 

 

Fuck it, she thought to herself, it wasn’t as if she gave a fucking shit. She was done.

 

While the previous time Alice had been to the Wyrm, she had dressed to the occasion, today she had left the house clad in the jeans and the  _ stupidly _ festive sweater that she’d donned that morning, when she’d been full of delusions that Polly would come home -- even just for the day -- and they could have been a family for once, and a leather jacket, that was decidedly more Northsider than South. Not that it mattered. 

 

The bar was devoid of people, and not even Hog Eye was there, nor that pink-haired girl. No, it appeared the thanks that their Serpent King got for ignoring all common sense and his parole conditions was manning their dive bar on Christmas Day. Alice bit back her sigh.

 

“Come here to gloat?” FP asked, his tone conversational, and she bit back the retort that wanted to leave her lips, as she merely shook her head, and approached the bar. “What the hell are you doing here, Alice? Don’t you have a family to be with?”

 

“Don’t you?” 

 

“I was with the boy,” he muttered. “Earlier. Not much of a family anymore, not with Jellybean gone.” 

 

“Polly...,” Alice started, before she trailed off. “Gladys wouldn’t let you have her for Christmas? Jellybean?”

 

FP scoffed. “You think Gladys will ever let me see her again?” He sighed. “Wouldn’t even let Jug go to Toledo for Christmas.” 

 

She arched a brow. “What precisely about that fills you with shock, FP?” She took a sip of the drink he’d provided her, the warmth of the beverage soothing her soul. “Was it her utterly neglectful behavior when you were incarcerated? The fact that she  _ stole _ your child and took her across state lines?”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“You didn’t know?” Alice asked. “The mother of the year decided that parenting Jughead was much too difficult when he called her to ask her to let him stay with her.” She pulled out her phone, idly flicking through images until she found the screenshots in question. “Allow us to read from Elizabeth’s diary,” she said, presenting him with the phone. “She provides me with a wonderful resource.” 

 

“No, I didn’t know that!” He exclaimed. “I thought she came  _ back _ not whatever the hell  _ this  _ is.” 

 

He slid the phone back over the bar, and she sighed. “I am fairly certain your son stayed alone in your trailer,” she admitted. “Perhaps I should have pushed harder for Hal and myself to become his foster parents...it just seemed cruel to subject him to Harold.” 

 

“What the hell do you mean, stole my child?” FP clarified, and she gave him a surprised look. “What are you talking about?”

 

She cleared her throat. “Jughead told us that he is staying in the school’s janitor closet today,” she read. “He says that his mother took Jellybean and moved out to Toledo to live with his grandparents, but that he holds out hope that they will be a family together again once his dad gets his act together and his mother comes back,” she elaborated. “Elizabeth then followed this by ever so subtly asking me questions about the legalities of taking one’s child without the other parent’s permission across state lines, claiming it was because she was doing a project for school,” she scoffed. “As if Riverdale High would do a project of any sort of vague relation to the real world.”

 

She took another sip of the drink, and she eyed FP appraisingly. He’d managed to pale several shades at her information, but, independent of that, she noticed that he had a much healthier air around him than had been seen in recent years. He had put on some weight in prison that he’d managed to maintain, and he even appeared to be  _ sober _ which was a miracle in itself, if it was actually the truth, and not an illusion. Not that FP had ever been good at those. It was almost embarrassing. 

 

“That bitch,” he muttered. ‘What the  _ fuck _ Alice? You couldn’t have told me?”

 

“You’d gotten a job,” she said, her tone flat, purposely devoid of emotion. “You’d gotten sober, you...I was proud of you, okay? I was going to! And then they found the gun and when you went away...what difference would it have made? You were in jail! How could you have gotten her back?”

 

He drew in a deep breath. The Christmas carols that were playing in the background mocked their silence, as they sang ridiculous lies about the holiday season, that neither bartender nor the bar’s sole patron believed. 

 

“I’m not...I’m not mad at you,” he muttered. “You’re right. What good would I have done for her in jail? What good can I do for even now?” He sighed. “Jughead actually believes that bullshit I spouted about us being a family again?”

 

“It is unfortunate,” she concurred. “You would think his observational skills would be better.”

 

“What a fucking mess,” he sighed. “What happened with you?” 

 

“Whatever do you mean?” She asked, her eyes filled with innocence. “Can’t I come by and visit with an old friend, the Wyrm, on Christmas?” 

 

“Bullshit.” 

 

“Of course it’s bullshit,” she allowed. “Let’s see. We can start by the fact that I did in fact ‘leave him’ but then took him back for Polly and those God-forsaken bastard spawn she’s carrying’s sake, and then Polly decided that she was too good for us and fucked off to who knows where?” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure, she can claim it’s because she doesn’t feel safe here, but what about  _ my _ sacrifices? For a moment there I thought maybe I could be happy.”

 

“Alice, I didn’t  _ mean _ it like that,” he insisted. She rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe I did.”

 

“Then Elizabeth decided to involve herself and Archibald in some sort of perverse mind games that the Black Hood was involving her with,” she continued, scowling. “The two of them almost died, and our two-bit Sheriff just...assumes that the Black Hood is dead because he shot a man in a black hood.” She stared Heavenward, pinching the bridge of her nose. Tom Keller gave her a migraine. “And I can’t even protest against this because Archibald has ensured that those that do sound absolutely batshit.” She sighed. “So, when Polly never bothered to show up, and Harold ignored the fact that this behavior  _ upset _ me...I couldn’t take it anymore.” She shrugged. “I figured I could just...hide here until Christmas was over.” 

 

“You’re more than welcome to,” he said. “Got nothing better to do, if you want to keep me company.”

 

“Okay,” she allowed. She sighed. “I really don’t want to go home.” 

 

“Yeah? Well, that makes two of us.” 

 

She shook her head, taking another sip. “What a  _ fucking _ pair we are,” she muttered. “I’m so  _ tired _ of this damn town. Everything I worked for has turned to shit.” She sighed. “Want a smoke?”

 

“What  _ would _ the neighbors think?” He teased. 

 

“The neighbors have greater problems than what I choose to do with my life,” she said, her tone prim. “I think the neighbors are in desperate need of therapy.” 

 

He chuckled. “Sounds about right.”


End file.
